


Beginnings II

by sffan



Series: Beginnings [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sffan/pseuds/sffan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is sad that no one wants to kiss him. So Derek does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings II

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. About five seconds after I posted "A Beginning", this alternate version of Derek and Stiles' first kiss popped into my head. So I wrote it, and made it part of a series.
> 
> Dedicated to vampirefan and emeraldsedai who squee along with me. Partially Inspired by [this](http://keriarentikai.tumblr.com/post/49771150565/not-another-teen-wolf-helenish-captain-snark-can-we) gifset at keriarentikai's tumblr.

Derek has no idea what he’s doing at Lydia’s big ‘We Survived (in more ways than one) High School’ bash, outside of a reluctant admission that he finds her as intimidating and irresistible as everyone else does. The party is in full swing. Everyone, including his wolves, thanks to some aconite laced cocktails, is either completely drunk, stoned, or well on their way to those states. 

Everyone, of course, except Derek. Who, even before he became responsible for the well-being of a bunch of amped up teenagers, was never much of one for over-indulging. He can practically hear Laura’s voice calling him a control freak. He half-smiles at the memory. It still hurts to think about her, but every day, it hurts just the tiniest bit less.

He checks his phone and decides that two hours is long enough. It’s time to slip out unnoticed. Just as he’s about to get up, someone walking past him trips over his own feet and lands in Derek’s lap.

“Oof,” Stiles grunts out as he lands, and then he laughs as he almost slides off of Derek’s legs. Derek catches him, and after a bit of flailing, Stiles settles sideways on Derek’s thighs. “Good save, dude! That would have hurt. Or maybe not, because I am feeling _no_ pain right now. Tequila is awesome, man. I can’t feel my face.” Stiles pokes at his cheek a couple of times and then grins down at Derek.

Derek waits for Stiles to get up. He doesn’t. He just stares a bit blearily at Derek. Derek’s about to push him off his lap when Stiles says, “ Wow. You’re really pretty.”

Derek frowns. He’s been called a lot of things, but he’s quite certain pretty was never one of them.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Stiles says, running his finger between Derek’s eyebrows, trying to smooth out his expression. “It’s not an insult! Dudes can be pretty. Ask Brad Pitt. It’s just, you’ve got these really fine features.” Stiles runs his finger down Derek’s nose. “And those awesome multi-coloured eyes. Like seriously, dude. What colour are they?” Stiles leans in and squints at them. “They’re light green, dark green, and yellow all at the same time. It’s wild, man. And then your mouth. It’s just so kissable. Everyone just wants me to shut my mouth. I’ve heard stuff, all kinds of _filthy_ shit, but no one ever says they want to kiss me.”

The wall of words just comes at Derek. Apparently, the only difference between sober Stiles and drunk Stiles is the absence of an already paper-thin filter. Derek can hear the loneliness in Stiles’ voice and smell the sadness coming off him, and he kind of hates it. So he leans up and brushes his lips against Stiles’.

Stiles freezes and then blinks rapidly a few times. “Did you just?”

“Yeah,” Derek replies.

“Could you. Um. Again?” Stiles asks, his cheeks tinting pink. 

Instead of answering, Derek leans in and kisses Stiles again – a longer, firmer press of lips. This time, Stiles returns it. Cautiously at first, and then with greater confidence and enthusiasm. When Derek pulls back this time, Stiles’ hand fists in his shirt and he makes a sad sound in the back of his throat. Derek kisses him again, slotting their lips together. He brings one hand to the back of Stiles’ neck, fingers making slow circles on the sensitive skin. Stiles shudders and squirms closer. Derek steadies him with a hand on his hip. 

As they continue trading soft, gentle kisses, Stiles’ free hand comes up to Derek’s face, his long fingers stroking tentatively along Derek’s jaw, rasping against his stubble. It feels really good and Derek can’t stop the quiet happy sound he makes. He feels Stiles smile against his lips. Derek sucks lightly on Stiles’ lower lip and Stiles keens softly while his heart rate skyrockets. With every kiss, the air fills more and more with the scent of Stiles’ arousal. It’s making Derek feel incredibly reckless and powerful. And it makes him want _more_.

Derek runs his tongue along the seam of Stiles’ lips, and Stiles gasps and jerks back in surprise. Immediately, Stiles leans back in, eyes half lidded, skin flushed red from his cheeks all the way down his neck, lips parted slightly, and he slowly drags his bottom lip up over Derek’s mouth, his whole body curving sensuously into the motion. 

What remains of Derek’s self-control goes right out the window. He curls his hand around the back of Stiles’ head and drags him closer as he pushes his tongue into Stiles’ open, willing mouth. Stiles moans as their tongues touch and slide and curl around each other. Stiles’ arousal spikes sharply. Derek can feel how hard Stiles is with the arm he has across Stiles’ lap. Derek is half-way to hard himself and his hand tightens around Stiles' hip as he starts to tip Stiles back onto the couch.

And then a girl’s piercing laughter cuts the air. 

Suddenly, Derek remembers he’s in Lydia Martin’s basement. And that he’s sucking the face off of the Sherriff’s _barely_ legal teenaged son in the middle of a house party. Full of more teenagers and his wolves. Who probably already know what he’s doing. Fuck. He’s never going to hear the end of this. He’s not sure what’s going to be worse, the teasing from Erica, or the epic bitchface he’s going to get from Scott. Derek reluctantly ends the kiss and leans away.

“Don’t. Come back,” Stiles whines, trying to tug Derek back in. Derek resists. Barely. Stiles pouts. Derek’s resistance crumbles briefly, and he leans in and gives Stiles one last kiss.

“I think maybe we should continue this later. You’re drunk,” Derek says, moving his arm so that he’s not so painfully aware of Stiles’ erection.

“Not that drunk,” Stiles replies, still sulking.

“Drunk enough that we should stop,” Derek says firmly.

“Spoilsport,” Stiles replies. “Ruiner of fun. Cockbl – ” 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek grits out.

Stiles grins at him. “Sourwolf,” he says cheekily.

Derek growls and pinches Stiles on the side. Stiles laughs and squirms, and then tries to grab Derek’s hand. Derek evades him easily and gives him a few more pinches, just to hear Stiles laugh. When Derek finally lets him catch his hand, Stiles slouches against Derek until he can rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. They relax against each other. Stiles weaves his fingers between Derek’s and goes quiet. Derek can hear his heartbeat slowing, moving towards sleep. “You smell nice, too,” Stiles murmurs before his eyes flutter shut. Between one breath and the next, he’s asleep.

Lydia finds them the around 4:00 am, slumped into the corner of the couch, curled together, fast asleep. She takes a picture and posts it with the tag: ‘About fucking time, losers.’


End file.
